


Quirks

by Alyx_D



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyx_D/pseuds/Alyx_D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/U where Dean goes to high school like a normal student and meets Castiel. Dean is not a hunter/demon, and Castiel is not an Angel. I had a hard time deciding how non-hunter Dean would really be. I don’t like the self-deprecating version Dean imagines for himself when he gets trapped in that Djin fantasy and he’s a punk who slept with his brother’s prom date. (2x20 What Is and What Should Never Be) So I decided to pull from Dean’s closet-nerd/bi-sexual tendencies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quirks

I have this talent. This little skill I was naturally born with. I don’t talk about it, so I don’t know if it’s inherent in human nature, or if it’s just a quirk which few possess. I always figured it was a trait from another life. I can usually tell within seconds how long the person I just met might be in my life. Also, how strong our connection will be, regardless of the duration of our acquaintance. It might be a brief interlude, or it might be for years. We might have a strong bond for a few weeks or a causal connection for many years. I am almost never wrong.   
The most prominent example of this ability occurred twelve years ago. It was my freshman year of high school; New school, new town, new life. Again. In my second class of the day, I saw him. The moment our eyes met, I knew that we’d be friends, and probably good ones. He slipped into his seat, and hunched over his desk, resting his head on his arms. Looking around the classroom, I waited for the teacher to start the class. A binder slapped down on the desk next to me. Looking up, I saw a tall skinny fellow who gave off the impression of indifference. ‘You and me both,’ I can’t help but think to myself. It’s possible he and I could get along. My eyes drifted to the back of the head of the boy sitting a few seats in front of my new neighbor.   
‘Why do I feel like I have to choose?’ I wondered, almost absentmindedly.   
The teacher stood up, the silent signal that class was starting now. I listen patiently as he drones on about the policies, the class, his expectations, and the day’s activity. I groan inwardly when he says every student’s worst fear:   
“You guys will be working with a partner.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see my neighbor has turned towards me. I glance over, to see where he’s looking. It’s at me.   
“Partners?” he whispers, raising an eyebrow. I dare a glance to the guy sitting a few seats ahead, and notice he is turning towards me, to look behind him. He looks at me, but I don’t take the chance.   
“Sure.” I whisper back. There’s nothing worse than standing up at the front of the classroom while a teacher demands to know “does everyone have a partner” and then having to work alone. Or worse: with the teacher.  
“Oh, let me take role.” This teacher is about as fascinating as watching paint dry. I listen to him verbally stumble through the list of students. This guy is terrible with names, for an English teacher. I listen carefully; “Mark Masters?” My new partner responds with a lazy wave of his hand. A few more names, and I hear what I’ve been waiting for:   
“Castiel Novak?” The boy a few seats forward lifts his head at the sound of his name. “Call me Cas.” His voice is throaty and deep for someone who is only fourteen.   
The teacher drones on. Eventually I hear “Dean Winchester?”


End file.
